


Still Here

by Apparentlynotreallyfinnish



Series: Rhink ficlets [12]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coma, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 01:49:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21028280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish/pseuds/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish
Summary: The room is quiet save for the steady beep of the machines. The constant sound is unsettling. He knows it’s good. He knows it means he’s alive.





	Still Here

The room is quiet save for the steady beep of the machines. The constant sound is unsettling. He knows it’s good. He knows it means he’s alive. But each ping stabs at him; pierces into him with its sharp shrillness and reminds him of the fact that this is his reality now; stuck in this silence, punctuated only by the unassuming scream of the machines keeping him at the edge of existence. 

He keeps trying to open his eyes; he’s been trying for what seems like an eternity. He has to open them. He needs to get his lids to slip open. He _has to_. Because Rhett is crying.

_I need to wake up._

In the beginning, Rhett wept out loud. He should feel ashamed to admit that he liked that. But he has no space for feelings like shame anymore, so it simply is what it is; he liked it. He liked hearing Rhett’s sobs, because they covered the sounds of the machines.

Rhett’s been crying silently for a long time now. It makes no difference to him, though. He can still sense it. It comes from him in waves he’s sure only _he_ can feel. He can feel the bottomless well of sadness Rhett sinks in. And he knows he’s the only one able to save Rhett from its depths.

_He needs me._

“Please. _Please_ come back,” Rhett mumbles. His voice is wet with tears and hoarse from sleepless nights. How many of them, he doesn’t know. Days have long ago bled together. There is no separation between night and day in the nightmarish dreamland he calls home.

Rhett’s words come out as a whisper, but sound like an explosion in the quiet of the room. The hopelessness penetrates his skin, burrows deep inside him and gnaws at him. Rhett’s plea threatens to eat him alive and he tries again. Tries so hard it hurts him to his core. Tries so hard he’s sure this time it’ll work. But nothing happens. Rhett’s silent again. It feels like Rhett’s drifting away. It might be him, though; it’s hard to tell.

_No! Don’t give up. I’m still here._

Rhett’s hands are holding onto his. Big, warm hands wrapped around his listless form. The difference between them is jarring; one still so full of life and the other already almost turned to dust. He concentrates on the feeling of Rhett against him. It’s good. It’s a tether.

_I’m still here. Almost gone, but not quite yet. Hold on._

He’s not sure if he’s telling that to himself or to Rhett. Maybe both.

_Hold on!_

The hopelessness drips from Rhett and envelops him. He’s cocooned inside it; both of them in a tomb of anguish and regret. 

He _regrets_. 

They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but to him regret burns colder than any payback he could imagine. He regrets, not the years spent together, but the years spent on the precipice of something more. Regrets all the times he sat next to Rhett and didn’t touch him. Regrets all the words he said to him that weren’t the ones he wanted to say the most.

_I’m in love with you._

Sometimes he repeats the words in his head for hours on end. Hoping against hope that if he keeps repeating and repeating and repeating and _repeating_, maybe they’ll just materialize outside of him and then Rhett will know. He just wants Rhett to _know_.

_I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you…_

“You fucking asshole!”

_Wait, what?_

Rhett’s hands are gone. He can hear steps; heavy stomps going from one end of the room to the other.

“You son of a bitch! Shithead! Jerk! Bastard! ASSHOLE!” Rhett is screaming. The words drag out of his throat with such a force it sounds like they’re ripping his vocal chords to shreds. A curse after curse tears out of Rhett and each is like a punch to his gut

Then there are hands on his body again. Grabbing his shoulders; shaking him violently. He’s a puppet in Rhett’s hands, a listless, lifeless shell of a person and Rhett shakes him with all his might. He can feel Rhett’s breath on his face before he draws a deep breath and screams:

“How dare you do this to me?! To us?! How fucking dare you leave me like this?! We were supposed to grow old together! We were supposed to die together, in our sleep, when we’re old and _done_ with this world! This is not allowed! You are not allowed to go before me! Come back right now or I’ll fucking end you with my own two hands!”

He jostles in Rhett’s hands and the machines screech and then there are other voices. Loud voices. Soothing voices. Pandemonium. And Rhett’s crying again. He’s howling; a wounded cry of an animal in pain. Like he’s the one that was T-boned by that truck.

“I HATE you!” 

“Mr. McLaughlin. Please, calm down. This is not helpful,” says a voice, feminine but stern.

“I HATE him!”

“No, you don’t. We both know that.” They seem to be certain. There’s sorrow in their voice. The offer of solace is implicit. He wishes Rhett would take up on it. Wishes they could make him feel better since he can’t. 

A sob. A heart wrenching sob echoes in the room and then a body is curling next to him. Long limbs wrapping around him and holding on tight. A bushy beard and warm breath near his ear and a whisper:

“I love you. I’m sorry. Don’t go.” 

“Mr. McLaughlin, you need to move now,” their voice has grown authoritative. He worries for Rhett. Worries he’s in trouble because of him.

“I love you. Come back.”

“Mr. McLaughlin! The machines… You have to…”

“I love you. I’m _in_ love with you. I – I’m sorry. I should’ve – ”

Lips on his lips. A soft brush. Another sob. Something wet on his cheeks. Rhett’s tears. A forehead pressed against his forehead. Warmth blanketing him.

_He loves me._

Rhett’s weeping against his neck now; burying himself into the crook of it, his sobs wracking both of their bodies. His next words are trembling and small. A concession. A permission. A desperate love confession in its own right.

“If you need to _go_, you can go. I’m not mad. It’s okay. You can let go. I’ll find you. After.”

_So dramatic._

“So dramatic.”

_Who said that?_

It takes him a moment to realize. His voice is a mere whisper, rough and foreign.

“Link?”

“I’m supposed to be the dramatic one,” Link continues. He’s slept for so long, the smile that is wide in his mind is only a ghost on his lips. But it’s there. It’s real. The dream is fading. Wisps of it remain in his brain; still fuzzy at the edges. But he’s here. The beep of the machines is suddenly joyous and welcome.

“Oh God! _Link_!”

“Mr. McLaughlin. You need to get up at this second or I’ll have to call security!”

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

Rhett moves. Link feels the void he’s left behind as an acute pain in his heart and whimpers.

“It’s okay, Mr. Neal. I’m sure you’re feeling very disoriented right now. Everything is going to be alright,” the other voice says, soothing and professional.

_Everything is going to be okay._

_He loves me._


End file.
